


Do You Think I'm Perfect

by marciscaspar



Category: SKAM (France)
Genre: Angst, Bipolar Disorder, Bipolar Eliott, Bottom Lucas Lallemant, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Model!Eliott Demaury, Multi, Top Eliott Demuary, shy Lucas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-11-30
Packaged: 2020-04-05 17:57:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19045504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marciscaspar/pseuds/marciscaspar
Summary: When Manon offers Lucas a opportunity to work as her personal assistant at Elite Paris, he looks at her like she is his saving grace. But he doesn't expect her to photograph one of the most beautiful men he has every laid eyes onLucas is an undergrad who is struggling to pay his bills, so when Manon offers him a job as her personal assistant at Elite Paris, Lucas is more than happy to oblige. But he doesn't expect to come face to face with Eliott Demaury, one of the top models at the company and probably the most beautiful man he has ever laid eyes on.





	1. Chapitre Un

**Author's Note:**

> This is more of a set up and a prologue to the story, but let me know what you think of it so far

Slamming the textbook shut, he inhales loudly and let out a steady breath, allowing his lungs to deflate back to their usual position, hunching his back forward in relaxation. Maybe it is due to the time of stress and franticness being over, but Lucas feels as if the air around him got lighter. Yet, the lingering tenseness of his hand muscles remind him of the 2 hour exam he has just completed. It may not have been such a good idea to wait until the last minute to study for his finale, but now it was over and nonetheless, Lucas feels liberated.  He brings his right hand up and uses his left palm to crack his knuckles, then pull on his thumb and twisting his palm until he hears the release of air from both of them, enjoying the momentary relief the actions results it. He does the same with his left, although because he predominantly uses his right hand, the cracks aren’t as satisfying, but still slightly pleasurable.

By now numerous students have left the classroom, leaving Lucas with only a few other undergraduates who either are staying to relax and review, or have crashed on their desks due to exhaustion. It is most likely both, and Lucas deeply understands both ends of the spectrum: he is heavily fatigued, but many students still had other finals to take. Those double majoring freaks.

However, Lucas wasn’t one of them, and now is free to leave the classroom and roam the halls as he pleases.

Getting up from his desk, Lucas stuffs his pencils and pens into his backpack, slipping its straps over his shoulder and making his way towards the exit. As soon as he reaches the hallway, he watches students quickly trying to exit the university. The atmosphere is a cocktail of relief and excitement, due to the fact that the year was over, and now they all have 4 months to do as they please. They deserve it after 8 months of constant stress, classes, late night study sessions, and lack of sleep; Lucas is really happy with the prospect of sleeping regularly again. However, in order to fully relax, he needed to get home, and Mika’s car broke down last week so, he has to move soon in order to catch the 14:30 bus.

Adjusting the straps of his backpack, Lucas starts walking towards the exit of the building, maneuvering around the groups of undergrads chatting with their friends. Some of them give Lucas an acknowledging nod, a quick “salut”, or even “have a great summer”, which he responds to politely, but really he is too preoccupied with making it to his bus on time.

As soon as he reaches the gate of the university, he begins to jog. Then, when he quickly glances down at his watch and sees that it is 14:21, he starts sprinting, hoping that his past football skills would propel his legs forward at a  faster rate. The constant motion of his jacket material, the rubbing of the nylon material of his backpack, and his jeans make this action very uncomfortable, but so would be walking 30 miles home, and Lucas concluded that this is the lesser of two evils.

When he makes it to the bus stop, he is panting, his body leaning forward due to his inability to balance himself at that moment, pushing against the stand in order to keep his stance upward. His lungs are compressing and decompressing rapidly, blood pumping through his body, reminding him that he needed to exercise more often because, fuck, he is out of shape. No matter what his tight abdomen displays, he needs to jog more often. He completely straightens up now, again, readjusting his backpack straps, and looks down at his watch to check the time. 14:27. Thank god.

He opens the door sloppily, shoving the key roughly into the slot, fumbling the object until he hears a click, and twists the knob open with no mercy, shoving the door until it swings open almost completely. He is surprised it doesn’t slam against the wall, but at the same time he wouldn’t have cared if it had, walking in and kicking his shoes off roughly against the wall, limply walking into the building towards the living room.

“Kitten! What the fuck!”

Ah, Mika.

“I’m sorry, I’m tired.” Lucas sighs, not even looking up at the older man when he explains himself.

“You could have dented the wall!”

“I would pay for it.”

“’With what money?”

Okay, that’s fair.

“Im sorry, Mika.” When he looks up to face the irritated man, who has his hands on his hips and foot tapping the floor as if he is a single-mom in a 90s sitcom confronting her 12 year old son for breaking the neighbors window again, he doesn’t expect to see a smaller figure behind him, filling the role of the loving older sibling who has just returned from college to visit their younger, annoying brother. Oddly, in a way, that is exactly what she is, beaming at Lucas with the warmest smile known to man, one that melted Lucas fatigue and replaces it with genuine joy.

“Manon!” He forces his feet to move towards her, ignoring Mika for the moment to wrap his arms around her middle, hugging her tightly. She does the same, wrapping her arms around Lucas’ shoulders and neck, hugging him in return, laughing into the side of his face. When he pulls back, she is still beaming at him, looking as beautiful as ever. “When did you get here?”

“15 minutes ago, I knew that your class would end soon and wanted to wait until then.” She replies, brushing a strand of Lucas hair behind his ear before looking back at him. He and Manon had gone to the same high school, and had met when he first moved in with Mika, for she was an undergraduate as well. But, then, she left to go to London with her boyfriend, and was studying her photography major at a university there, living there since. Lucas had no idea she came back.

“Wait, why are you back?” He asks, not able to suppress the slight worry in his tone, hoping it wasn't due to anything bad.

“Oh, it’s nothing bad. I got a job and they transferred me here.” Manon replies, clearly hearing the slight shift in Lucas tone, immediately rejecting his worst fears. Lucas relaxes at that and continues his inquiry.

“Job? Where?”

“At Elite.”

Elite?

“Elite? The modeling agency?” His tone starts to shift again, but this time it got higher, and his whole demeanor became lighter as he put the pieces of Manon's circumstances. She seems to understand that Lucas put them together as well, a smile breaking out on her face as she beams at Lucas joy. “You’re a photographer for fucking Elite Paris, Manon! Oh my god!” He’s hugging her again, tightly, while she giggles happily at his reaction, reciprocating his action once more. When he pulls back, he looks at her again more seriously, asking one more question. “Wait, Charles—“

“He’s still in London. He can’t just leave his classes there, but he’ll come back once they’re over. In about 2 weeks.” She answers, waiting again to see his reaction. He nods quickly, scanning her face, before embracing her once more, squealing at the recent news. They’re laughing cheerfully, enjoying each other’s company and its circumstances when suddenly, Mika clears his throat.

“Lucas, the door? Also, take off your backpack, it’ll be uncomfortable.”

Oh, right.

***

After apologizing excessively to Mika, Manon tries to resolve the atmosphere by making coffee, and it is successful. Lucas is joking with Mika about how he most likely bombed his business finale, and Mika in return reminds Lucas that he waited until the last minute to study for his, which will probably revel in the same result. Offended, he throws a pillow in Mika’s direction, ignoring the fact that he was very close to spilling Mika’s coffee, and Mika’s exasperated gasp when he does so. While they are talking, Lucas scrolls through his Instagram feed, liking Manon’s new post when he sees it. He goes back into the conversation and Manon pulls out her phone, grinning and looking back up at Lucas with a smile.

“Not at the moment.” she tells him

Manon asks about Lisa, Mika informs her that she is studying journalism in Brazil, much to Manon's surprise, and they go off from there.

“Lisa? Brazil?” She inquires, surprised and confused.

“Lisa. Brazil.” Lucas confirms, a nod in reply to affirm the fact that it was true, and that he is just as surprised as she is right now.

“But—so—she left her room?”

“She left this one, she probably doesn’t leave her room in Brazil.” Mika jokes, sipping his coffee which is too pale for Lucas’ liking. It leans more towards milk with a hint of coffee than coffee with a hint of milk. “Stop judging my coffee.”

“That isn’t even coffee, Mika. How are you even French?” Lucas criticizes, playfully, Mika only sighing in response.

“I like sweet things, Kitten.” He replies, his smirk making his innuendo obvious. Lucas rolls his eyes in response, not even acknowledging what Mika threw, and Manon just laughs at their antics.

“So, do you guys have any plans for the summer?” She asks, swirling her mug.

“Relax and watch the Making of a Murderer.” Mika response, sinking into the couch a little more, sighing before adding the last part of his answer. “And waiting for Lucas to pay his bills.”

“Hey!” Lucas is immediately alert now, straightening his back in response. “My dad’s too preoccupied to send me money at a regular time, but I’ll get it to you.” He says in defense.

“You said that last month.” Mika says.

“And I did give it to you.”

“Three weeks later.”

Lucas sighs in defeat, sipping his coffee in irritation. Yes, he has been late on his payments, and he knows that, but his father has just had a kid with his new wife, forcing him to be preoccupied for the past few months. He is definitely angry, his father prioritizing his new son over the one he already has, but he can’t be angry at the baby. So, he hasn’t fought with his father on it, just repetitively reminding him to send him money. But even then, his father is busy, and Lucas is left to struggle. He has gotten into his university through a scholarship, thankfully, but paying for his stay is a different story.

“I’m sorry, I’ll get you the money.” He apologizes, and Mika replies with an understanding nod. He gets Lucas situation, of course, but they are both living in an apartment complex, and the landlord wants her money.

Manon looks from Mika to Lucas sympathetically, eyes stopping on Lucas and looking at his demeanor for a second. She could see that he faltered a little bit, noticing that the predicament is stressing him. She looks down at her lap for a few seconds, silent, her eyebrows furrowed slightly, and her eyes shifting to the left slightly in thought, before looking back up at the two with a smile. She changes the conversation.

“Its weird, to be working for Elite. They’ve given me a high position as well, getting and everything.” She says.

“You have an assistant?” Lucas asks, happy that Manon has started to speak about a different topic.

“Well, I can choose one. It can be someone from the department or anyone I choose.” She replies, looking at Lucas. She smiles at him, and he smiles back, not fully understanding why she is focusing on him. “Anyone.”

“Choose wisely,” Mika adds in his slightly pretentious tone, the 90s sit-com mother figure returning. “They’re the ones who are making your coffee.”

“Yeah, they could put in way too much milk.” Lucas gets hit with a pillow after this.

***

A week has passed since Manon had returned to Paris and Lucas is surprised at how smoothly the transition is going. Charles has planned to finish his year in London before returning to Paris for the rest of his schooling, speaking to his father—professionally—about having access to his house in Paris again. His father agrees, but only after Charles is done his London schooling for the year, which means both him and Manon have to wait a few more weeks before they can completely settle into Paris.  

Since Manon doesn’t hear this news until after she arrived in Paris, because Charles was still talking to his father about the circumstances, she doesn’t have a place to stay; she hadn’t found out about this arrangement in time for her to find an apartment or book a hotel. However, with Mika being Mika and having his undying love for Manon, he allows her to stay with him and Lucas. Well, more like pleads with her to stay, but Mika has said that those were just unimportant details.

So Manon puts her suitcase in Lisa’s old room and unpacks her basic necessities, but doesn’t fill her closet or put too many items in the drawer she left behind, knowing that in 3 weeks Charles will be back and they’ll have their own cozy home. Lucas brings her a coffee on his way home from Yann’s, making sure to tell her that his best friend says hi. Manon smiles at this, takes the coffee from his hands, and gestures him into the room, since he was standing in the hallway. He gladly obliges, stepping inside the barley changed room, the only thing different being the opened suitcase placed on the floor, a few shoes near the dresser, and a laptop, binder, and camera on the desk. He looks over at Manon patting the seat next to her on the bed, Lucas following suit after his observation. When he sits down, sipping his coffee, he asks her a question.

“Why didn’t you unpack fully?”

“Well, Charles is coming back soon, so it would just be annoying to pack up again. Besides, when is Lisa coming back?” Manon replies and then questions.

“Don’t know, she’s trying to get as much experience as she can, so who knows.” Lucas says. Manon nods in response, lowering her hands that hold the coffee cup down to the middle of her crisscross-legs, softly rubbing her thumb against the lid.

“So, you’re done with classes?”

“For the summer, yeah,” Lucas replies, staring out of the giant window in the room onto the streets of Paris. “3 months.”

“Do you have any idea what you’re gonna do until then?” She asks, following Lucas’ gaze to the window, looking out as well. Lucas shakes his head, realizes that after a few seconds Manon couldn’t see him, and responds.

“No, but I need to pay back Mika. So, a job.” He says drinking the remainder of his coffee, leaning over so he could place the cup on the desk near to her bed.

“Are you still looking?” Manon asks, turning her head back to Lucas. Lucas’ gaze back as well.

“I haven’t even started.” He laughs, and Manon smiles in response, humming into the lid of her cup. She looks back at the giant window, staring at the buildings across from theirs, watching the people sit in their balconies and chat with their own friends. There is a pause in their conversation, not an uncomfortable or forced, but just a pause. Lucas takes that time to play with the cuff of his socks, pulling on the elastic band lightly in attempt to fill the time. Suddenly, Manon speaks up and Lucas couldn’t help but think that Manon is his savior.

“Do you want to work as my assistant? I mean, you’re already bringing me coffee.” Manon says and Lucas gapes at her, his brain trying to form a sentence for his dead mouth muscles to work out. Sometimes, he wonders if Manon is a gift given from God to Lucas, an angel who helps him through his perils. He wants to say “yes” and “of course” and “no fucking way” and “you’re my saving grace” all at once but his mouth won’t move, so he settles with an eager nod, continuing until a smile erupts on his face and he’s tackling Manon with a hug. She laughs at this, using her right hand to grasp onto her coffee cup while the left wraps around one of Lucas shoulders and lands on his mid-back, and moves it up and down in response. “The pay is pretty good, and you said you needed it. Besides, I would rather hang out with you than someone I barely know.” Lucas nods rapidly against Manon’s shoulder, chin hitting the back of her neck. She giggles again, pulling away, cupping Lucas’ face and stroking her thumb gently against his chin. “Gotcha, Lallemant. You have to be diligent, quick, and can't be late. You’ll also have to do a lot of odd jobs, and be around a lot of attractive people.” Lucas doesn’t really think of the latter as a problem, but agrees anyway, his smile settling into a calmer version of his predecessor. “I work from Mondays to Thursday’s, 6am to 2pm, but sometimes shoots take a while and at times at various locations, you need to be able to be flexible.”

With that last statement, Lucas already knows what Manon is referring to, but she continues to speak. “However, if you know something is happening, tell me ahead of time and I can talk to my supervisor. If it’s an emergency, just contact us as soon as you can. But go easy on me, I’m new and don’t have a lot of leverage yet.” She giggles after this, and Lucas nods one last time before pulling her into another hug, this time his mouth movable.

“Thank you so much, Manon.” He says genuinely, and he hears her laugh kindly before replying.

“Of course, Lucas.”

***

Lucas is in his room going through his social media when he sees the post he’s tagged in.

Amused, he screams out a ‘sorry’ into the hallway, only to hear Manon’s laugh in response.

This interaction is soon interrupted by a ring from Lucas phone, signaling a text message.

 _“_ _Surely God is my salvation; I will trust_ and not be afraid _. The Lord, the Lord, is_ my strength _and my song; he has become my salvation.” – Isaiah 12:2_

Lucas sighs, staring at the message from his mom for a few seconds before closing his phone and placing it on the pillow next to his head. He takes in a deep breath, letting the dioxide leave his mouth and into the air, attempting to calm his already heightened nerves.

 _It’s fine, she’ll be okay_ , he thinks, _and it’s just a small incident_.

But it’s hard to believe things will get better when you are only presented with the worst, and Lucas hasn’t seen any good signs from his mom in a week. The nurse said she will be fine, and that she seems to be acting better. But ‘seems’ can mean many things, and Lucas doesn’t doubt that his mother isn’t always projecting what she is feeling. The fact that she is able to conceal some of her emotions indicates some psychological growth and willpower, but he still worries.

Lucas decides to turns off the light and sleep early.

***

Lucas and Mama Lallemant’s texts:


	2. chapitre deux

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Im sorry this is so late, but I plan on uploading every Friday/Saturday...but I dont want to make promises I cant keep. Schools out and im a year older, and I got more time. But, lets focus on Lucas (but, honestly, thank you for being so patient)

 

 

 

Lucas has seen skyscrapers, has been in castles, and has visited various architectural monuments, but for some reason, this building is the most intimidating structure he has ever faced. The building is structure is one of a triangular prism, with the exterior made out of rectangular, clear glass windows. From Lucas’ perspective, it looks as if the building is covered in tiny glass shards, reflecting the light of the sun and creating flares where it hits. It is ginormous, grandiose, and definitely doesn’t feel like a place Lucas should be working at to make a couple of bucks.

  
“You know, when I said I don’t have much leverage at this place, I really meant it. If I’m late during my first week Lucas, I’ll get my head ripped off.” Manon’s voice is what breaks Lucas from his trance, blue eyes falling onto the shorter girl next to him. She looks directly at the building as well, a hand holding onto the strap of her tote bag, creating a fist that brushes against her shoulder.  She looks over at Lucas, smiling softly, knowing that he is stunned. The streets of Paris, although beautiful as they are, almost act like a pale background for this building, emphasizing its significance. It is so prestigious, too extravagant, and Lucas feels as if he shouldn’t be there. He is here to make a quick buck, but this is a company, a whole industry, and compared to all the previous jobs Lucas has worked in, this is like being a bodyguard for the Queen of England. “Lucas, seriously, you can goggle later. We need to go.”

  
A light push behind him propels him forward, and his feet have to catch himself in order to stop him from falling. He wants to send a glare in Manon’s direction, but he is still slightly dazed. So, he keeps walking, taking calculated and fragile steps towards the front entrance, a glass door that is designed to look as if it is cracked, with the word ELITE splayed across the surface, and waits for Manon to do something. She looks over at him and rolls her eyes playfully, knowing how nervous he is, and pushes the door open for them. Immediately, a cool breeze coming from the multitude of air conditioners inside hit them, and Lucas feels as if he keeps propelling into various states of shock.

  
The interior looks very professional. There is a curved desk to his right, the sides of the structure curving to form a crescent, the flooring doing the same, leading to a room on each end of the mat, both enclosed by double doors. There is a display screen attached to the wall, the screen bending to cover the curved-wall it is attached to, and on it were constantly changing images of various models. The photos, which Lucas can only presume to be of the models, each appear and then disappear, soon being replaced with another image following it. In front of all the photos is the word ELITE Paris, displaying the name of the company and beautiful cursive font. Fuck, why is the text even pretty?

  
“Good morning. Ingrid.” Lucas doesn’t even notice Manon walk up to the crescent-shaped reception desk, speaking to a girl with blonde hair, handing her a pass. “He is with me; we’re going to see David.” The girl looks at the pass, types something onto her computer, and nods up at Manon. Then, her eyes fall on Lucas, who is too stunned to move, nervously standing in place. Fuck, he’s too afraid to even interact with the fucking receptionist. Still, she smiles at him briefly and turns back to face Manon.

  
“He’s free now. You can go ahead.” She says, and Manon nods.

  
“Thank you.” Then, the conversation ends, and Manon twists her torso slightly so he could look over at Lucas, nudging her head towards the door to the right. Lucas looks at the direction of the doors, gives a quick nod in response  as well, and ducks his head slightly as he follows Manon, making sure to briefly smile at the receptionist as he passes by. Yes, he’s timid, but not rude.

  
“This place is huge.”

  
“That was the reception room, Lucas.” Manon chuckles, reacting to Lucas’ stunned behavior. “It gets bigger.”

  
“I shouldn’t be here.”

  
“Lucas, ELITE is a multi-million dollar modeling agency and company, a lot of people here shouldn’t be here. Me included.” Manon says, hand on the gold colored handle, pulling it back enough for Lucas to walk through.

Whispering a quiet ‘thank you’ he walks in and waits for Manon to do the same, eyes scanning the multitude of glass doors and people hurriedly scattering around, many with suits, others with designer clothing, some beautiful beyond belief. Right, a modeling agency.

Abruptly, he felt a shoulder bump into his, and his first reaction is to jump, moving closer to Manon instinctively. The source of the touch is a man, taller than average, his skin a warm mocha, and hair that is a darker shade of brown to create a nice compliment. He is gorgeous, a cap covering his beautiful mess of hair.

  
Right, models are in modeling agencies.

  
“Sorry dude didn’t see you there.” He chuckles, and his voice has a gentle, rich tone, enough to make Lucas forget that he had even bumped into him in the first place.

  
“You’re okay.” Lucas manages to whisper out, still stunned by the man in front of him. The man smiles at him and then looks over at Manon, giving her a slight nod.

  
“Manon,”

  
“Alex. Are you done for today?”

  
“Yeah, the photographer wants to finish the rest of the shots in an underwater location.”

  
“Oh,” Manon responds surprised, but then turns to a more impressed tone. “who is doing it?”

  
“Chloe.”

  
“Makes sense.” Manon chuckles knowingly, looking down slightly before turning to give Alex her full attention. “We don’t want to keep you here any longer; I bet she tired you out.”

  
“I mean, its Chloe.” He responds, and Manon and Alex both smile playfully at their inside joke. Lucas, an outsider, watches them in awe. “Bye, Manon. Bye—ah…”

  
“Lucas.” And he is surprised he managed to even say anything at all, but the boy—Alex—smiles softly, bringing his pointer finger and middle finger up to his forehead and saluting the pair.

  
“Bye, Manon. Bye, Lucas.” Then, he walks out of the entrance they had just walked in from, leaving Lucas stunned and Manon unfazed.

  
“You’re going to have to get used to seeing beautiful people, Lucas.”

  
She wraps her hand around Lucas’ forearm, continuing forward and dragging him along. Lucas obliges, not even knowing what to do anymore other than stare stunned. She pulls both of them through the hallway, past models and businessmen alike, smiling and nodding politely at some she is familiar with until they reach an office at the end of the hall. There, a glass door with the name ‘DAVID HOURREGUE’ embroidered in gold stares directly at them, and Lucas turns and looks at Manon helplessly.

  
“There’s the big man.”

  
“You’re boss?”

  
“Head of the photography department, Lucas. Yes, my boss.” She turns back towards the door after relaying the information to Lucas, fist knocking precisely on the glass, waiting for a response. Suddenly, Lucas can see a figure stand up from a sitting position, maneuvering around what Lucas presumes a desk, with a grey shadow that becomes bigger and bigger, until the door is swung open, and a man, most likely in his mid-thirties, stares down at them. Lucas, to no one’s surprise, is frozen, but Manon speaks confidently and clearly.

  
“Good morning, David.”

  
“Morning, Manon.” His eyes then shift to Lucas, looking him up and down before speaking. “Now, is this your potential assistant or a new model admitted to the agency?”

  
Lucas nearly chokes at the compliment, letting out a noise of surprise as his eyes jump open, looking up at the man, startled. Manon lets out a soft breath, amused, while David just smiles at Lucas’ reaction, hoping the compliment wasn’t too much for the boy. It wasn’t too much, per se, but with how taken aback and nervous Lucas felt about this whole atmosphere, anything could set him off.

  
“Assistant, David.”

 

“Well, that’s good. Glad you found one so quick.”

  
“He’s a good friend of mine and willing to take the job; I’m lucky that I found someone so quick.” Manon looks back at Lucas, nudging him slightly with her shoulder, forcing him to look at David directly and push out a timid smile. That seems to satisfy the man in front of him, who looks at him kindly before turning back to Manon.

  
“I’ll get him the papers. Now, what’s your full name, son?”

  
“Ah, Lucas. Lucas Lallament.”

  
***

  
“Jesus Christ, Manon, why is everyone here so intimidating?”

  
“Comes as part of the job, I guess.” She says, opening the door to another room, which Lucas presumes is her office.

  
It isn’t extravagant, but Lucas can see how it is cozy. Everything is painted a warm beige, while hints of white and piece of furniture that seem as if they reaches levels of comfort beyond Lucas’ imagination. Manon walks over to a desk placed directly next to a large window looking over the streets of Paris, and the view is perfect, being on the sixteenth floor and giving them a beautiful ratio of surveillance and clarity. She puts her bag down next to a lamp on the desk and pulls on a metallic string attached to it, allowing it to become a bright source of light. Again, it wasn’t gigantic, but it's comfortable.

  
“Chez moi.”

  
“Je vois.” Lucas replies, walking over to the couch perpendicular to the desk and facing a beautiful painting of flowers on the wall opposite of him. He sits down and admires it for a second before turning back to Manon, who has set her laptop on the desk, plugging into it a wire already connected to an outlet. Then, she turns and looks at Lucas, smiling softly.

  
“Ready to see what I do.”

  
“What are you even doing today?” He asks her, genuinely curious about how her, and in turn, his, day will go.

  
“Well, I need to start planning a shoot I am assisting on for Vetements with Niels, which means I need to talk to the models we are working with about what they are comfortable with, and when each is free.”

  
“Isn’t that information already given to you?” Lucas inquiries from his slouched position on the couch, now more relaxed then he has been before.

  
“Yes, but schedules change and at times, so do comfort levels. So, I want to ask them in person.” Manon says, opening up her laptop and entering her password.

 

“Shouldn’t, ‘Niels, ask as well?”

  
“He should, and he would, but he’s too busy choreographing another shoot today so, I’m going to ask them instead.” She then pulls out a notebook from her tote bag and attaches it to a clipboard that Lucas hadn’t noticed before, pulling out a pen from the same source before looking directly at Lucas. “Ready?”

  
“Shouldn’t I go get you a coffee, first?” Lucas asks playfully, getting up from the couch he was laying on and adjusting the shirt he is wearing, patting the jean pocket where his wallet is. Manon chuckles in response, shaking her head at the boy.

  
“You know what I like. Meet me back at Studio B7.” She says as she heads out the door, leaving Lucas smiling pleasantly until she is gone.

  
It takes Lucas a few seconds before the thought registers in his head.

  
“Wait, Manon! I don’t know where B7 is!”

  
***

 

  
After nervously asking another employee where B7 is, which in response gets him an emotionless ‘up the stairs’, Lucas finds himself in a small rectangular room with two coffees in his hands. The room is painted black on all sides, as well as on the flooring, with a small team of what he presumes makeup artists and dressers scattered around. There are various individuals running around the room frantically, and one of them pushes past Lucas to get out the door while he stares at another placing new apparel onto a clothing rack; many individuals are just spectating. The room has one source of light, and it is located in the middle of the area, a giant octagonal light hanging from the ceiling. facing the floor, while several smaller, rectangular lights support it, facing the same direction. Two more of those octagonal lights are stabilized on the floor, facing the giant white backdrop hanging from the ceiling and draping onto the floor, a runway cut short to fit the crowded area it inhabits. Right where the floor and drape meets, is a man, about average height, with brown hair and a beard of the same color, both trimmed and tamed. He is holding a camera, which Lucas couldn’t even begin to guess the price off, that is hanging off his neck by a strap and resting against his chest, while the man himself is speaking to a petite blond, who seems to be explaining something to him.

  
The various lights, continuous moving bodies, and overall cramped area overstimulate Lucas’ senses. He doesn’t know how Manon has managed to work here, or, really, how he will.

  
“It’s a lot, isn’t it?” He is met by a small brunette now, one who he is familiar and comfortable with, taking one of the coffee cups from his hands. She takes a sip and faces the same scene Lucas is, holding the still warm coffee in her right hand, clipboard in her left. “Peppermint?”

  
“Is that your mood, today?” Lucas says to Manon, smirking down at her. Chuckling, she takes another sip and smacks her lips, softly.

  
“Yeah, this works.” She smiles at him before motioning her head towards the man in the center of the room, who is still speaking to the blonde girl, listening to her intently. “Niels, and as I have mentioned, busy. This is his shoot.”

  
“This is insane. How many models is he working with today?” Lucas inquires, still taken aback by the contained chaos.

  
“Just one, but he’s well known in the brand so everything must be perfect.”

  
“Oh, is he a diva?” Lucas jokes, smirking playfully.

  
“No,” Manon chuckles, reading her clipboard “But he is a huge representative of the brand. He also rose in popularity rather quickly, which is astonishing when you consider the fact that he is nineteen and started working here less than nine months ago.”

  
“Nineteen?” Lucas exclaims quietly, genuinely surprised by the age Manon just recounted. The model is only two years older than Lucas himself and he is this successful?

  
“Mhhm, Demaury. Have you heard of him?” Manon asks, turning her body so she can focus on him more.

  
Lucas thinks for a second, filing through his mind’s minimal model knowledge before shaking his head. He doesn’t follow celebrity culture,  unless you count John Lennon, who is, well, dead. Manon turns around and faces the room, seeming to scan the area.

  
“He should be here soon—oh, well, there you go.” She points with her coffee to the center of the room, where Lucas previously remembers hosting a man with a beard, but now is replaced with a completely different entity and—holy shit.

  
This boy is tall—taller than Lucas—and made completely out of lean muscle, covered by a loose and practically see-through white button-down shirt, all paired with simple blue jeans. His whole body is easily sculpted by the gods, his body tone yet frame slim--a beautiful medley. But his face, holy shit, is a work of goddamn art. His almond eyes are a beautiful combination of blue and grey—Lucas cannot decide which one—, upturned and present, his face is masterfully shaped, prominent and striking, and his hair is like rustled-up sex. Lucas wants to run his fingers through that hair, cup his face with his hands like it is the most precious item in the world, and walk in the fog of his eyes. Holy fuck. Yes, he is a model, but this level of beauty challenges the ones of Greek Gods and Goddesses, and Lucas finds himself speechless again.

  
“…hold my—Lucas!”

  
He snaps his head back down at the brunette below him, cheeks flushed, shaking himself out of his trance. Oh Shit.

  
“Shit, sorry. What is it?”

  
“I need to go talk to him, Lucas. Can you hold my coffee?” Manon says after chuckling, hovering the coffee in front of Lucas’ face.

  
“Him?”

  
“Eliott. Demaury. The one in the middle.” She gestures behind her at Eliott, as if Lucas is not already fixated on his position, jingling the coffee cup lightly in front of Lucas’ face. “I need to go to him, Lucas.”

  
“Yeah, sorry.” He takes the coffee from her waving hand, taking a sip from it teasingly. She looks at him with an expression of annoyance and disapproval, which is immediately overridden by a playful smile before she turns to walk towards the model, who is now talking to the photographer, Niels. They both acknowledge her presence, opening up the stances and conversation to her as she asks both Eliott and Niels questions. Niels looks at Eliott for his response, and Eliott promptly answers her, Manon writing the responses down on her clipboard. This conversation flows comfortably while a multitude of stylist fix and adjust Eliott’s hair, face, and outfit. Lucas, generally timid and unfamiliar in this environment, watches the spectacle in awe. He doesn’t move, he doesn’t try and to get in anyone’s way; he just watches Manon, and stares at the beautiful spectacle of a man in front of him.

  
After watching for about a minute, Lucas’ common sense should have told him that he has done enough. But that part of him doesn’t appear at all, and all he is doing is staring at Eliott, mouth slightly agape with eyes scanning him up and down. If this was on the street, it would have probably been creepy and considered stalking, but, they are in a modeling company, so Lucas assumes that it is a common occurrence.

  
However, it doesn’t make Eliott catching him any less embarrassing, those blue-grey eyes he has been mesmerized by staring right back at him, and although taking Lucas a good few seconds to register that he got caught, the moment realization hits him, his face flushes red and all he wants to do is for the earth to swallow him. Those eyes, a cocktail of clouds and ocean waves, stare directly at him, and Lucas’ body is screaming at him to bolt.

  
So, he does, and immediately Lucas meets the brighter light of the hallway and a gasp of relief leaving his body.


	3. Chapitre Trois

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh, okay. I’m so sorry that this chapter took so long to update. My weekend to week was packed with various activities and I didn’t have the time or mindset to finish and upload this chapter. I’m sorry. Mais, i hope you enjoy this anyways. Ps. Twitter’s support network sucks and I hate it. That’s all. 
> 
> Tell me what you think! Sorry this chapter is kinda slow, but trust me the boys will interact very soon

Lucas knows that he should send his mother a reply by now, it has been a week; but, honestly, he doesn't know what exactly to respond with. Whenever his mother sends him a Bible verse, Lucas usually waits until she delivers him another text, a normal text, one to which he can respond with a simple “that is great” or “I’m sure you had a lot of fun”—anything. Yet now, Lucas cannot even send her that, because nothing has followed that Bible verse. A whole week has gone by, and Lucas is still met with the same verse from Isaiah whenever he opens their conversation.

 

Sighing, he throws his phone somewhere on his bed, adjusting his position on the pillow so he can stare at his ceiling more comfortably. He knows he should send her some message, and he will, but not right now. Not at this moment.

 

Right now, he needs relaxation, and he will not get that from Mika who is watching ‘How to Get Away with Murder’ on the couch. The man is too enthralled by that show, and any attempt of conversation will only be shushed before Lucas can even finish his sentence. Manon, his saving grace, is out with the girls, who have made it their utmost mission to celebrate her accomplishment with a whole Girl's Night Shabang! Emphasis on girls night, and although Lucas usually gets a free pass on events like this, he wants to give the girls their alone time.

 

So, that leaves him with one, and honestly, as much as he won't admit it to them, his favorite pastime: hanging out with Le Gang.

 

Yann, Arthur, Basile, et Lucas: Le Gang. Le mellieur gang du monde.

 

Lucas

guys, are we hanging out?

 

Arthur

pregame?

Lucas

no, just to hang out. i have to work tomorrow with Manon

 

Yann

Sure. My house? Unless Basile…..

 

Yann

Basile……

 

Yann

BASILE………

 

Basile

No, I can’t. Mom is having her book clun

 

Arthur

bless your mother

 

Lucas

so….Yann?

 

Yann

Yeah, that’s cool. Come over

 

Yann

So I can beat ALL of your asses in Mario Kart

 

Lucas

bitch

Basile

Hey! That isn’t true

 

Arthur

except for Lucas

 

Lucas

FUCK,,,,, YOU

 

Arthur

it’s the truth, m8

 

Yann

Just come over, heathens

 

He quickly gets up from his bed, throwing on a random black hoodie over his t-shirt and quickly slipping on some sneakers, running out of his bedroom to get to the front door. There, he hears Mika holler at him in question: “Kitten! Where are you going?”

 

“To Yann’s!” He replies opening the door, making sure to ignore Mika telling him to “find a cute guy to fuck on the way!”

 

A cute guy, bullshit. Lucas hasn’t been able to find a decent man to be interested in since Yann, and that all occurred when they were still in high school. Sure, there have been a few flings, some make out sessions and casual dates, but all the kissing had been emotionless and all the dates awkward, so Lucas really has given up on that aspect of his life. It is not because he doesn’t want to date, he would love to have a boyfriend to come home to, to hug and cuddle, to kiss and hold; but, no one has come close to making Lucas feel that way, and he really doesn’t want to settle for anyone who is either, just a good fuck, or doesn’t make his heart beat.

 

So, he focuses on bettering other aspects of his life, his friendships, his occupation, his fashion sense, or lack thereof, anything to distract him from the emptiness of romantic compassion that has been societally deemed as crucial for someone in his age. So, instead of going to bars, he at Yann’s house, playing his Mario Kart while sharing weed with him, Bas, and Arthur. Instead of having intimate relationships, he watches them unfold on a Norwegian teen drama that Mika insists on watching, rolling his eyes as Mika gushes over all the attractive guys on the screen. He doesn’t mind, he tells himself, so what if he doesn’t have a boyfriend, he can manage.

 

“If you don’t grab some now, Bas might finish it all.” Yann warns him as soon as his figure appears amidst the front door, holding it out for Lucas to step in.

 

“Dude, I can’t get too drunk, I have work tomorrow.” Lucas replies, stepping into the house and then taking his shoes off near the door.

 

“He’s gonna drink it all, Lucas.” Yann restates, and Lucas sighs as he walks into the building.

 

“Bas! If that’s your third one in the past 30 minutes, I’m going to break your hand!” He hollers, heading towards Yann’s living room, where Arthur is sitting on the floor, concentrating on throwing a shell at Basile who in attempting to dodge Arthur’s attack in the game, putting up a middle finger at Lucas as he walks in before sipping his freshly open beer can. Lucas, rolling his eyes, walks over to the couch before flopping onto the cushion, making sure to flick Basile in the head as he was doing so, Unfazed, Basile continues to furiously focus on the game, fingers desperately attempting to guide his cart away from Arthur’s attempts of sabotage.

 

“Dude! Get away!” Basile complains, irritated, his whole body leaning with him as he tries to maneuver around Arthurs throws.

 

“Bas, these arth’ the simple rules of Mario Kart. If you don’t want to be hit with a shell, dodge them.” Arthur says, preparing another attack.

 

By now, Yann joins Lucas on the couch, handing Lucas a fresh beer which he openly accepts, taking in sips of the bitter alcohol as he watches his two idiot friends furiously play against each other. Yann leans over towards Lucas, bumping his shoulder into the boy to get his attention before he starts talking.

 

“How’s work?” He asks.

 

“Good, really intimidating. There are a lot of intimidating people, the whole building screams ‘I have wealth, but its because I work so hard’, and everyone is—“

 

“Hot?” Basile interrupts, earning a kick in the back by Lucas. “Ow!”

 

“—professional and I’m very out of place there.”

 

“But also, hot.” Arthur adds, chucking, taking the opportunity to finally hit Basile’s cart with a blue shell, gaining him a lead and passing Basile on the track, much to the others dismay.

 

“Fuck!”

 

“Hell yeah!”

 

Chuckling, Lucas rolls his eyes before turning back towards Yann, who seems to have been doing the same thing, examining the two idiots below them

 

“But its chill. Manon’s making it better, though.” Lucas finishes, Yann returning all his attention to him.

 

“That’s good. I’m just glad you found a stable job. And, I mean, if you couldn’t, you could always work at the skate shop with me.” The last part is a joke, because both Yann and Lucas know that although Lucas doesn’t mind skating, he hates the people Yann skates with, and cannot spend another second with guys who scream “that’s gay!” whenever one of them ever so mentions a guy.

 

“I mean some of them are nice.” Lucas adds, not trying to seem like a total asshole, but even Yann agrees that most of the people he works with are idiots.

 

“Giovanni and Jonas don’t count.”

 

“Well then, sorry man, I’m never setting foot in those working conditions.

 

Yann accepts this, laughing at Lucas’ comment before both of their attentions fixates back onto the screen, watching Arthur and Basile compete against each other on “Round Two Bitch”—as Basile so kindly puts it.

 

Lucas has many instabilities in his life, his paycheck, his father, his love life, hell, even Mika when the man is drunk, but he smiles on the fact that he knows he can always rely on this: Yann, Basile, and Arthur always being his best friends and always having his back. Ever since Lucas was younger, it was hard for him to maintain close friends; he had friends, sure, but none of them ever stuck around enough for them to feel trusted by Lucas, only staying for the happy moments where his mom would bring them snacks or allow the boys to play video games in his basement, or that one time his dad brought home baked goods and all Lucas friends gorged on them, much to his own dismay. No, they had stayed for that, but they didn’t really stay when Lucas got upset when he received his first 71 out of 100 on a test, when Lucas was afraid of the dark and thunder, or when Lucas’ mom first had an episode.

 

No one stayed for that, because who would want to? They were all kids, they just wanted to have fun, not deal with some lonely boy’s issues when they could be using their time to play soccer—a better use of time, deemed by a third grader.

 

But then, one day, Lucas walks into _9ème_ with slightly used school supplies because his mom was too sickly to get him some and his dad did not care to try, tries to find a place to sit before they were inevitably given assigned seats, and is ready to sit alone in failure before a voice calls out to him from behind.

 

“You can sit with me, if you want.”

 

Yann was new, he didn’t have many friends at first, and since Lucas was the only lonely boy in a room full of 8 year olds who have already found their friend groups, it was only logical that Yann sought some relation with him. So, Lucas, shocked at first that someone spoke to him, shyly looked around to see if Yann was calling someone else, and then double checks to see if Yann was kidding, only to gain a smile in return and a gesture towards the seat next to him. Lucas, timidly, sits down, and even before he could speak Yann looks at him with all the enthusiasm in the world and says: “Have you ever ridden a skateboard?”

 

Now, Lucas thought that maybe it was a fluke. That the world wanted to give him a break, or mess with him, for a day and allow him to have a friend. He realistically has expected Yann to make new friends the next day and leave Lucas all together, and he did make new friends, many friends, charming people with a smile and kind words, but he never left Lucas. Actually, Lucas was the first person Yann went to for everything, from making smart comments, to happily showcasing his 96 out of a 100 on a test, to crying to Lucas when his baby sister broke his Lego house. He would play with Lucas outside, make jokes with him, and always choose Lucas to sit with, or be on his team for soccer, or share his snack with. And Lucas loved it, he loved having a friend and he loved that Yann considered him a friend too; but, he was also scared. He was scared that Yann would leave him too when he cried to Yann, or told him about his parents, just like everyone else did. Based on Lucas thorough data and research, people don’t stay with Lucas after they found out about his home life, so how can Yann be any different?

 

So he never tells Yann about them, never explains why Lucas cannot afford decent school supplies, never tells him why he’s crying in the bathroom after he walks into school some mornings, and never tells Yann about how his dad wasn’t home when the power went out and so he cries himself to sleep that night because his mom was finally asleep after an intense episode and weeks of constant insomnia and Lucas didn’t want to ruin that for her.

 

But after nine months of constant avoiding, avoiding questions and concerned eyes, Yann finally has enough. He asked Lucas, demanded to know what was happening, and waited for him to reply. But, he couldn’t. If he told him, he would leave too, and Lucas didn’t want that. He sits quietly, playing with a patch of grass on the soccer field, barren of children besides Yann and Lucas because they had to be home for dinner; but, Yann always stays as long as Lucas stays. Yann waits patiently for some answer, only to receive none because Lucas was scared—scared of losing one of the only good things in his life.

 

“Lucas seriously, say something; you’re my best friend.”

 

For some reason, maybe the universe was playing with him again, Lucas starts crying. Maybe in some other universe, as his mom told him, he would have a different reaction, maybe he would smile or just not react at all. But, in this one, Lucas starts crying, and Yann is immediately there to hold him. Honestly, Lucas is amazed that he hasn’t left yet, that he hasn’t found the boy childish and walked away, but Yann doesn’t, he instead gets up onto his knees and wraps his arms around eight year old Lucas, not even wincing when Lucas grips on his arms tightly. Lucas cannot fathom that he is real, that Yann is present and is holding him, rubbing his back and cooing him to calm him down. When they pull part, and Lucas is wiping the tears from his eyes, Yann informs that he learned the cooing technique from his mother when she was calming down his baby sister, making sure to wipe the stray tear on Lucas’ cheek in the process. That gets both boys to giggle, ease the atmosphere and get back to the comfortable silence they had before Yann asked the question. But he still waits for Lucas, waits for him to tell Yann, because Yann is Lucas’ best friend and will always be there for him.

So he does: Lucas tells him about his mom and his fear of the dark and how he’s always sad that his dad comes home late and how he never gets new school supplies and how he feels as if the world is mean to him. That the world only gives him the bad things and never the good.

 

“That’s really mean of it.” Yann says, glaring at what Lucas presumes is the world, before making his stance. “If the world is only going to give you bad things, then I will try my very best to give you the good ones.”

 

He keeps that promise, Yann, giving Lucas the best and helping him with what he can. He always looks out for Lucas, making sure he’s happy and feels like he is heard. He secretly buys one notebook extra for him their following year in _8ème_ , and makes sure to always be by his side. His mother had met Yann and made sure to tell Lucas that she loved him and was glad that Lucas has such a good friend. He was there during their parents’ divorce, being the shoulder that Lucas cried on when his dad abruptly told him the news over the phone, when he was already out of the house, and he was there when Lucas came out to gay, although be it the initial reaction wasn’t ideal, he came around, because he was Yann, and Yann was and is always going to be there for Lucas.

Soon, Basile and Arthur joined during _Seconde_ , and Le Gang grew to accommodate them. They all were idiots, but they loved Lucas, and as much as Lucas will never admit it out loud, he loved them as well.

 

But that doesn’t mean Lucas does not kick Basile in the back of the head when he tries to steal Lucas beer. Tough love. 

 

“Bitch!” Basile hisses out, but still continues to focus on the game, because Arthur is winning and leaving Basile in the dust. “Fucking slow down!”

 

“This is Mario Kart, Bas; I will not slow down.” Arthur replies cheekily, punching his fist in the air in excitement when the victory animation plays on screen. Basile, groaning, throws the controller on the couch next to him, lifting himself up to the couch that Yann and Lucas are sitting on and settling next to Lucas, placing his head on the cushion behind. Arthur laughs at Basile’s dealings with his sore defeat before standing up, falling next to Yann messily before turning to Lucas.

 

“So…anyone hot?”

 

“It’s a modeling agency, Arthur.” Lucas replies as Yann flips through Netflix now projected on the television screen.

 

“Je sais que, mais, explique-moi qui.”

 

“Ah, Alex?”

 

“Alexia?” Arthur inquires, ears perking up. Lucas laughs at his reaction before shaking his head.

 

“No. Alexandre.”

 

“Wait, he’s a model?” Basile asks, turning his body to face the boys more.

 

“Are you surprised?” Yann says subconsciously, which causes Arthur to snicker.

 

“Ahh, yeah him and—“Lucas mind is slowly forming into clouds, that now strains until it is a clear fog, a fog that slowly starts to change from a subtle grey to a turquoise. Ah—“Eliott.” He says this abruptly, surprising even himself before he continues. “Eliott Demaury. Have any of you heard of him?”

 

All three boys shake their heads, unknowing of who this guys is completely. But, they have heard a few whispers of him.

 

“He’s famous, I know that. But, I honestly don’t know what he looks like.” Arthur comments, smiling instantly when he sees that Yann has begun to search up John Mulaney specials.

 

“Dude, do Comeback Kid!” Basile suggests.

 

“No, New In Town.” Lucas interjects.

 

Arthur then looks over at Yann, holds out his hand, and they both nod at each other in mutual agreement before Arthur takes the remote from him and chooses Kid Gorgeous. Both Basile and Lucas groan, but they watch nonetheless.

 

“Okay, but seriously. What does this man look like?” Basile insists. Stealing Lucas beer and taking a swig, Lucas only groaning in protest. “Tall, dark, and handsome?”

 

“Tall…handsome, he’s a model, and…wait, what do you mean by dark?”

 

“Eh, I don’t know. You choose.”

 

“….no?”

 

“Does he have an Instagram?

 

“Ahh...” For some reason, Lucas hasn’t thought about that. The boy is a model, obviously he would have some social media platforms to get in touch with agencies and companies, and probably to keep in touch with his audience. If the boy is as popular as Manon puts it, then he probably is on Instagram. 

 

“I don’t know, you can check if you really want to.” Lucas tries to say nonchalantly, attempting to not explicitly reveal that he has gotten jittery over the prospect of Eliott having an Instagram. 

 

Both Basile and Arthur take out their phones, Yann laughing at the prospect and Lucas being very close to yanking then out of their hands. Again, he wants to be subtle, but fuck is that hard. Besides, he just finds the boy attractive, that’s normal; Eliott Demaury is a goddamn model, of course Lucas finds him breathtakin—

 

Handsome.

 

“Nothing comes up when I search his name.” Basile says, eyeing Arthur who nods his head and goes back to typing. A few seconds later, Arthur’s body shoots up slightly and he turns over to speak towards Basile.

 

“Look up...srodulv? On Instagram.” Arthur says, fidgeting with the pronunciation that causes his to receive a confused glance from Basile and scrunching of eyebrows from Lucas and Yann. 

 

“Is that French?” Yann asks, causing Arthur to shrug, giving Basile a pushing nod. Lucas watches the screen in confusion, attempting to decipher why 20 year-old model Eliott Demaury would choose that as his username. Is it significant? Is he just pretentious?

 

“Whatever it is, I can’t spell it so, Arthur, recite!” He commands, and Arthur snickers before spelling out the name.

 

“S. R. O. D. U. L. V. It’s all lowercase” After a few audible clicks coming out of Basile’s phone, Lucas sees from the corner of his eye Basile get slightly excited as he presses on a name, eyes widening in shock as he finds what he is looking for. " Holy shit, this boy is gorgeous. "

 

“I wanna see!” Both Yann and Arthur scream in unison, leaping over Lucas to grab the phone, not even giving him a chance to move. Lucas, though, still attempts to snatch it from them, pushing against Yann's body which is acting as a barricade between Lucas and Basile’s phone.

 

Lucas can see Arthur scrolling purposefully through the phone, face in awe and amazement as he went through the photos. 

 

“Holy shit, Lulu. He’s hot.” Arthur says, looking over at a frustrating Lucas still struggling behind Yann’s body, giving him a smile in conformation. “Listen, if you’re allowed to get with any of the models, I’d go for this one.”

 

“Arthur!”

 

“No, seriously, look at him. He’s a hunk.” Finally, Lucas pushes his body upwards over Yann’s head and snatches the phone from Arthur’s hand, much to his and Yann’s dismay, before angrily looking through the photos.

 

But his anger melt away as soon as he came face to face with those grey-mist eyes. 

 

Fuck, he’s beautiful, and Lucas knew he was beautiful, but seeing him now just reaffirms the fact that Eliott Demaury is an angel, a god, a mystical being. Alright, maybe that was too much, but Lucas still cannot help but be infatuated by the man.

However, scrolling through his profile, Lucas doesn’t only see his face. No, the more he looks through, the more prominent becomes the cool images of landscapes, small drawings of novelty items and small animals. He also has videos of just mundane actions, such as ducks swimming on a pond or regular patrons in a coffee shop. Hell, he has even posted a photo of his shoes. When Lucas posts a photo of his shoes on Instagram, Mika either calls him boring or a pretentious kitten.

 

“Apparently the guy rose to fame at 19.” Yann reads from Arthur’s phone, Basile looking over Lucas’ shoulder at the phone while Arthur is listening to Yann. “He’s been one of Elite’s stars for over a year.”

 

“Is he single?” Basile comments and Lucas’ body shoots up at it, glaring at him in annoyance and confusion. 

 

“Dude, he works where I work.”

 

“Dude, the man’s a model.”

 

“Wait, does Lulu have a crush on Sir. Srodulv?”

 

“Arthur, I swear to god—“

 

Lucas is sure he is prepared to get away with committing triple homicide if the boys did not stop their teasing, trying to push past a body barrier, created by Yann, to keep him away from a laughing Arthur. Arthur, however, easily moves away from Lucas’ attempts of murder, which in the end, are futile. Honestly, in some way, Lucas is comforted in how quickly the gang has figured out Lucas’ attraction to the model, warmed by the fact that his friends know, and in some way, care that much about Lucas. But he is still annoyed. What Lucas has is purely an attraction, an attraction to a man with the looks of a Greek god.

 

“Yeah, dude’s hot. If I was gay, I’d fuck him.” Basile adds, prompting Lucas, who slumps back on to the couch after his various attempts of an attack on Arthur, to chuckle,

 

“Basile, you have no chance.”

 

“Hey!”

 

“But dude, neither do I. He’s a model like you said.” Lucas takes another swing of his beer, still attempting to be careful with his alcohol intake knowing that he has work with Manon tomorrow. Work with Manon, and potentially Elio—him. Him.

 

He can’t fully put the blame on himself, again rationalizing the fact that he is a model, and models are conventionally attractive. Although Eli—him, has reached another extreme level of beauty, in Lucas’ eyes, he is still another human being, who doesn’t know of Lucas’ existence, and this job is to make rent money and spend time with Manon. Simple.

 

“Yo, Lucas, are you going to follow him on Insta?” Arthur asks, who is now scrolling through Eliott’s Instagram on Basile’s phone. Lucas furrows his eyebrows at the question, still maintaining a majority of his attention on Mulaney’s current bit as he responds.

 

“No. Why?”

 

“I don’t know, you work with him, right?”

 

“Doesn’t mean we’re friends,” Lucas says, finishing the remainder of his beer, shaking the can to see if there is any left before placing it on the carpet next to his feet, as well as the multitude of beer cans Basile has accumulated.

 

“You don’t have to be friends to follow people on Instagram,” Yann adds, eyes not moving from the screen as he speaks. “I’m not buddy-buddy with Kim and Basile’s not best friends with Kanye, but we still stalk their Instagram’s.”

 

“But stalking is a different story, and, besides, I’m not going to stalk Eliott.”

 

“What do you think we’ve been doing for the past 15 minutes?”

 

At that, Lucas slaps Yann’s arm and slumps further into the couch, hiding himself and his cheeks that are slowly starting to rise in temperature. He bitterly ignores both Basile and Arthur’s snickers in favor of watching Mulaney talk about his dog because that is more important than his idiotic friends, who he now regrets to know him so well.

 

Now he won’t be able to look at fucking _him_ in the eyes ever again. Hopefully, he will never have to.

 

 


	4. Chapitre Quatre

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yo! im back! im sorry for such a long wait but here it is!
> 
> also this is not edited so im sorry for the spelling mistakes but it is currently 1:35 AM where i live and i want to go to sleep donc,,,

“You’re order will be ready in a few minutes”

“Merci” Lucas smiles at the barista, who just nods politely in response, and Lucas is pleased that she even kindly acknowledges him in the first place. It is 6 o’clock in the morning, and if someone even tries to talk to Lucas in that hour, especially if he is working in customer service, he would be pissed. But, the barista has a better attitude, and probably will, than Lucas and treats him with respect.  He appreciates it, significantly more since his head still stings from his hangover. He hopes that it will lessen once he gets back to work, avoiding Manon’s knowing eye in the process, but he crossed his limit of only drinking a few beers by a lot, the nine extra beers still affecting his system. So, he’s forced to deal with it, manage it at least, to a state where he can function normally, or somewhat normally, whatever gets past Manon.

He’s leaning against one of the walls of the coffee shop, next to a booth seat that is still empty and placed next to one of two windows, allowing him to watch the locals stroll by if he really wants. He is four feet away from the door, a potential nuisance to people attempting to enter the vicinity, but only a few people seem to have come in, many locals or regulars. So, Lucas leisurely leans against it and waits for his name to be called on, taking out his phone to check his messages.

There, he sees a few notifications from Le Gang’s group chat, the gist of it being that Basile is hungover and Arthur and Yann are making fun of him for it. Lucas would participate, but he is experiencing the same trails as Basile, so he can’t input his two cents without sounding like a hypocrite.

Which will probably in the end get him targeted.

Instead, he clicks out of the messages, going back to the main message screen and scrolling down until he finds his messages to his mom, well, more accurately, the messages Lucas’s mom sends to him which he half-heartedly responds to. But he has nothing to respond to. Nothing concrete, at least, staring at the same Bible verse she had sent a week before. The farther away from the send date the days get, the more worried Lucas becomes, thoughts jumping to the worst possible scenario, because it can genuinely be the worst possible scenario. Lucas can’t help but wonder about the possibility of this being a result of an episode, or a complete breakdown. Bible verses could sometimes be a result of something small, a small incident, but small incidents can lead to bigger incidents, one that needs urgent care or something that is potentially, severely dangerous or—

Calm down, Lucas. It’ll be fine.

He has to remind himself that, he really does, especially when he doesn’t know exactly what is causing him to worry, or in better terms the genuine cause of his worries, if his mom was genuinely having a breakdown or if Lucas is just jumping to conclusions.

He scrolls through Instagram in the meantime.

Smiling, he types out a comment before returning to his explore menu, only to find a certain post suggested in his feed.

Maybe allowing the boys to look through the model’s Instagram for hours last night all the while drinking the cheapest beer possible wasn’t such a good idea, and the amount of posts relating to Eliott on his feed displays that. Many of them weren’t even from Eliott’s personal account, some coming from photographers, modeling agencies, and various fan accounts with photos of Eliott as their profile picture, and Lucas will not verbally admit that he has scrolled through a few of them. The edits are cute, the photoshoots are nice, and in the end, Lucas doesn’t know how he has found himself looking at the same picture of Eliott on various posts, all with their own captions.

One of them says ‘Daddy’ and that’s when Lucas knows he has to exit the account.

Head shooting up from his phone, Lucas quickly tries to shove the device into his jacket pocket, attempting to look nonchalant as he continues to wait for his drink. He leans further against the wall and taps his heel against the glossed wood flooring as the time passes by. 

\----

A man shoved past him when Lucas goes to open the studio door, almost knocking him down with his sheer force, and Lucas thanks his sub-par reflexes and balancing skills for keeping him and his drinks a float. What the hell? Lucas watches the man continue to run down the hallways, confused, wondering why the man decided to be urgent and rude at that moment. When he turns around, however, he’s surprised to see everyone else in the same state of urgency. He stares wide-eyed as various men and women with clipboards and astray clothing in their hands frantically run past him from one of the room to the other, shoving items in other people’s hands, asking each other panicked questions, and even yelling things Lucas isn’t sure is French. He carefully walks around them, making an effort to not get in any of their ways as he maneuvers himself through the room, and he stands on his tip-toes to find that familiar head of short, brunette hair.

“Lucas!”

She’s already in front of Lucas.

“Hey, Manon.” He flattens his feet to talk to her, holding out one of the coffee;s for her to grab. She looks frantically at him, down at the coffee, and then frenziedly grabs the cup. Lucas instinctively holds his hand under it in case it falls out of Manon’s loose grasp and then looks up at her with scrunched eyebrows; he finds her eyes scattered and worried. “Whats...wrong?”

“Daphné had to leave early!” It comes out sort of connected, like one, long, breathless sentence, and it takes Lucas a few seconds to decipher what she had said while Manon keeps looking around the room. “And she was the model’s stylist! So, now we’re just sitting on our asses trying to put pieces together to style him!”

“Wait...Daphné’s a stylist?”

“Yes!” Manon exclaims, taking a giant sip of her coffee, which Lucas is severely glad has cooled down on his walk here.

“Daphné Lecomte?” Lucas just wants to clarify.

“Yes, Lucas, yes! Its Daphne, yeah its unexpected, but you know what was more unexpected? Her not being here!” Manon kept shifting her weight from one foot to the other, anxiously looking around the room at the others who seem to be on the same level of panicked that she is. Lucas plainly cocks an eyebrow.

“Manon, they’re models, not babies. Shouldn’t they be able to dress themselves?” Lucas plainly responds, scrunching his eyebrows at the whole situation. He has heard of models not being able to do any of their own makeup and dressing due to careful planning and coordination, but if the situation is so dire, then they should be able to resort to putting their own clothes on.

“They have makeup on, Lucas!” Manon responds, exasperated, as if the response is obvious. Maybe to her, it is, but Lucas is still as baffled as he was before.

“Okay, why didn’t they put on the clothes before the makeup?” He reasons, but Lucas again gets a sigh in return, and Manon takes another sip of her coffee. Someone pushes through them to get to the other end of the room, and Lucas stares at them slightly offended while Manon looks unbothered. 

“Because Daphné wasn't here before and they didn’t want to waste time.”

“Has Daphné not been here at all?” Manon shakes her head behind the coffee mug. “Wait, where is she?”

“No idea!” She throws her arm up in an aggravated manner, waving it around to communicate her frustration. 

Lucas, not really know how to deal with this whole situation, settles on giving Manon a sympathetic smile, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder to ease her agitation, he gives her a side hug, which she simply accepts. 

“It’ll be figured out.” he pulls away from her, rubbing her shoulder once as he speaks. “You'll figure it out.”

Manon exhales defeated, nodding her head in acceptance before she finishes her coffee, placing it on the ground before silently turning to watch Niels, the photographer, talk fervently with an assistant. Lucas stuffs his hand in his pocket before taking a sip of his own coffee, which has gone cold due to the time it had from his departure from the coffee shop to now, and the a/c in the room, and Lucas has never been a fan of cold coffee that wasn’t truly intended to be cold. 

“Hey, Manny, do you know where the microwave is.” He had been staring down disappointed at his coffee cup at this time that he didn’t even notice Manon stare at him as if he is the second coming of christ, and it causes to jump a little when he looks back up, suspiciously and warily eyeing her.

“...what?”

“You’re a guy.” She states the fact as if it is a revelation.

“Ah, yeah. Why?”

“They need a guy to go help the model change.” Manon motions wildly towards Lucas with her two, now free, hands. “You’re a guy!”

“What? Manon,” Lucas immediately shuts the idea down. “Why should I do it?”

“Because you’re my assistant and the model’s a guy, so a lot of the girls are too attracted and flustered to do so.”

“Manon, I’m gay.”

“I know, Lucas.”

 Honestly, it isn’t a convincing argument, and both parties know that. However, Lucas is still persuaded into doing the task, most likely due to Manon’s siren-like charm that can convince anyone to do whatever she wants, a smile and a few charming words being all she needs to accomplish such. 

Lucas, sighing, walks towards the door Manon directs him towards, which leads to the exterior of the building, with a trailer parked right near the door. He turns around to question Manon when he is suddenly handed several items of clothing by a person Lucas doesn't even have time to recognize, lowering his pile of clothes to see Manon smiling at him and giving an encouraging thumbs up. He rolls his eyes and turns towards the trailer, making sure to be careful with the designer clothing in his hands as he walks down the steps that leads him outside the building to the door of the trailer, which is opened to him by another person he cannot see. He gives them a quick thanks before he steadily walks in, and then the door shuts behind him. He flinches slightly to the noise but proceeds to walk further into the room.

Lucas sighs internally when he sees a couch in the trailer, placing his hefty pile of clothing onto it, finally having the ease and peripheral to look around. The room is simple, a few mirrors placed to his left, the couch slightly to the right of him, and a coat rack settled in the right corner or the space, filled with hangers that held various pieces of clothing, all covered in plastic. A protective measure, Lucas assumes. He looks at the one that is placed adjacently to all the others, a blue, button-down shirt with silver and light-blue designing, matched with white pants which Lucas would be too anxious to wear. They look expensive, which makes sense since they were probably high end, if not designer, and even with the plastic covering over it, Lucas is afraid to touch it. God, helping this guy change is nerve-racking enough--

“Are all those mine?”

 _Fuckinghell_ , Lucas feels his whole body jump in sudden surprise, stiffening as turns around in fear, with wide eyes and a tense mouth. What he is greeted with, however, only worsens his condition, and he doesn’t understand how his legs are still holding him up at this point. Still, he is thankful, since he doesn’t want to look like a complete idiot in front of _Eliott-fucking-Demaury,_ even if he feels like one. 

Eliott, who is standing in front of Lucas in a relaxed stance, a hand shoved into his pants pocket and a simple back t-shirt on, smiles down at him, and Luca feels as if he is staring into the goddamn sun. Although it's only a small smile, Eliott looks extremely relaxed, well, as relaxed as one can be on a photography set.

He looks so beautiful.

Lucas, at that moment, realizes that he has been staring too long. So, he opens his mouth, planning to release at least one, maybe two phrases to Eliott, but the only thing that comes out is air, and maybe a soft exhale. Thankfully, Eliott decides that enough silence has passed and speaks again.

“Why are you here, by the way?” He doesn’t sound mad, thankfully; on the contrary, he smiles at Lucas.

Fuck, okay. Calm down, Lallemant.

“Ahh, Daphy, she’s not..ah…here.”

“Daphy?” He tilts his head slightly in question, and Lucas would have probably swooned at his endearing gesture if he wasn’t currently panicking at his unprofessionalness.

“Daphne Lecomte. Your—ah…”

“My designer? Yeah, I figured. I would have heard her panicking by now.” Eliott looks around as if he is imagining that Daphne is completing that action right now. Lucas hasn’t prepared another sentence before Eliott turns his attention back to him, so he continues to idiotically stare up at him like a fish out of water.

“So, you’re going to be helping me get dressed, I presume?”

No, he’s a salt-water fish put into a freshwater tank and he is going to explode.

All Lucas can manage is a timid nod, sharp and brief, before he stares up at Eliott with, what he presumes, red cheeks. Holy shit, Lucas, get it together. But, he can’t. As much as he wants to, as much as he wants to act calm and professional—he’s at work, goddammit, albeit he is Manon’s assistant, but still—it’s impossible when a gorgeous model who towers over you is staring at you directly in the eyes. The same model who you couldn’t look at without beginning to write sonnets in your head about his beautiful eyes and hair. He doesn’t know if his mind is moving so fast that it all seems like a blur or if he genuinely cannot think of anything concrete. Nonetheless, he isn’t talking, and it is inevitable when Eliott speaks up again.

“Are you going to help me get dressed?” He asks again, cocking an eyebrow. Lucas stutters up a response.

“O-oh, yeah.” Lucas starts to move towards the clothes he placed down on the couch, stopping to realize that he needs to first ask Eliott if he knew what order he needs to get dressed. God, Lucas, come on.

“H-hey, which one do you have to wear fir--“ “ _Holymotherofshitgoddamn._

Eliott pauses his actions midway to give Lucas his full attention, his eyes a bit wide due to his sudden pause in motion, slightly bent over as the bottom seam of his shirt wraps around both of his shoulders, hindering his movements, his bare back compressing in order to accommodate for it. When he sees that Lucas has paused mid-sentence, he takes that as an opportunity to completely take his shirt off, standing up straight again before he turns the now inside-out shirt back and places it on the chair near him. All the while, Lucas is staring at his obviously, his brain short-circuiting, because there is Eliott Demaury, bare back and all, muscles moving and relaxing with all of his motions. Lucas quickly turns back to the clothes on the couch because he could both see and hear Eliott reach for his belt buckle, and that is not something he can bare witnessing today.

“Did you have a question?” Eliott asks, and if Lucas wasn’t so clouded with emotions, he could have sworn he heard teasing in Eliott’s voice. But, he won’t even let himself believe in that prospect. Instead, he pushes the pants and shirt—he just chose a blue shirt and its matching pair of pants, photographer be damned, he guesses—towards Eliott while he pretends to be doing something very important with the remaining clothes.

“No, ah, well, you can put on those pants yourself, right?” Lucas juts his head back towards Eliott’s direction in order to indicate the clothing he had just pushed near him. There is a pause before Eliott speaks and Lucas presumes that he is looking at the clothes. He hears a chuckle.

“I guess, yeah.” Lucas keeps his head faced towards the clothes, picking up the corners to examine them before placing them down, continuing this process over and over again as Eliott continues to dress behind him. After a while, though, and he could also hear Eliott walking over to the corner of the trailer to grab something else, shoes maybe, while he continues to look through the clothes, and at this point, his body and hands are on auto-pilot as his brain internally screams at himself. They’re high pitched, hearty, and it reminds Lucas the emotions of a stupid middle-school girl while at the same time the emotions he felt in high school when he got his first crush on a guy. However, this time, the guy is right there and he is in a professional setting, so again, he has to revert to internally freaking out as Eliott starts to buckle up his pants again.

Every sound, metal hitting metal, sends jolts through Lucas’s body, while at the same time, forces him to freeze. He pushes himself out of doing either, continuing to file through the clothing on the couch.

Up until the point Eliott speaks again.

“Can you help me button my shirt?” Lucas wants to scream externally now.

“Ah, what?” He looks over briefly, making sure to keep his eye contact at a minimal, his profile only shifting slightly. He still manages to catch Eliott’s smile.

“My shirt. Can you help me put it on? I don’t want to smudge the makeup on my shoulders.”

The kicker is that Eliott looks nothing but serious.

“The makeup…on your shoulders?”

“The modeling industry means no joke.”

This finally causes Lucas to look up at him, eyeing between Eliott and the shirt in his hand, letting out a defeated sigh once he realizes that he has to go through with this. With minimal contact, he steps closer to Eliott, shaky hands reaching up to the two flaps of his shirt and beginning to fasten the buttons together. There wasn’t a way to avoid touching Eliott faintly in this action, unless he wanted to try to button the shirt just with the frontal most tips of his pointer fingers, which would result in actions even more awkward than now because one if Eliott thinks Lucas is repulsed by him when its actually the quite opposite? This close contact with Eliott causing the blood rush to his cheeks and his whole face heat up because, he can feel Eliott’s breathe. Its involuntary, of course, Eliott cannot hold his breath for the duration of Lucas’s meticulous and tedious shirt buttoning, the man has got to breath, but this close contact, the fact that Eliott is taller than Lucas yet close enough where his warm breath spreads far enough to lightly hit the wispy top of Lucas’ hair.

Lucas bends his knees slightly as the placement of the buttons become lower and lower, to the point where he is almost on his knees, his heart beat rising in pace and his whole face reaching to the point where you could mistake him for having a high fever. What makes it worse, however, is that Lucas can feel Eliott’s eyes on him, on the top of his head, on Lucas’s fingers as they descend down his torso, and he knows that Lucas has probably seen his bare skin underneath as he buttons his shirt. Hell, its solidified the moment Lucas pauses his motions when his eyes come in contact with Eliott’s abs, which shouldn’t surprise him because Eliott is an ELITE model who most-likely trains non-stop for his physique. But, that doesn’t mean coming face to face with them makes Lucas hitch his breath, because it does. It so fucking does.

“Ahh, actually the first few buttons need to be unbuttoned.” Lucas’s head spurts up, staring at Eliott taken aback before he lunges himself up to standing and reaching to the top two buttons. As soon as he unbuttons them, he comes into contact with Eliott’s chest again. Well, the top of it, where he can see his defined peck, his prominent collar bone, his pale neck, his jaw, and—

Eliott’s smirk causes Lucas to freeze in place, wide eyes meeting unfazed ones, staring down at Lucas who was previously admiring his chest. _Fuckfuckfuck_ you idiot.

“O-okay.” Lucas stammers before stepping away, almost flinging himself out of Eliott’s vicinity. He turns his torso in order to grab the darker, blue shirt that goes over the white shirt before mentally face-palming, because he has to go back into Eliott’s space to put the shirt on because of Eliott’s fucking shoulder makeup.

“H-hey. Could you t-turn around so I can put this shirt on?”

“Sure.”

Eliott turns around and extends his arms out, waiting, and Lucas again looks at the back of his neck, the small freckles that are faintly present there and Eliott’s chestnut hair that only become lighter wisps when they reach the base of his neck—

_Focus, Lallemant!_

As quickly as he can, he carefully puts the shirt on Eliott. When he’s done Eliott turns back around, staring down Lucas with the same smug smile he had before, and Lucas is surprised that he hasn’t died of heart failure.

“Thank you.” Eliott says.

“Ahh…it’s all good.” Lucas brushes off nervously.

“I would like to thank you properly, but I kinda need you name for that.”

Lucas’s eyes widen once again. “N-name?”

“Mhm.”

Lucas brain doesn’t process for a few seconds, his minds circuit board either crashing or not responding, nonetheless looking like an idiotic buffoon. He opens his mouth for a second, watches Eliott’s smile go from smug to amused, eyes becoming little crescents and adorable wrinkles forming on the outside of them, and that just makes it even worse. Right now, little versions of himself are dancing around in his head, naked, in the rain, screaming nonsense because what the hell was he supposed to say? His name, logically, but for a second he even forgets where he lives.

“Ahh, its ah—“

They both flinch at the sound of the trailer door slamming open, but Eliott recovers quickly while Lucas is still shaken up. Standing there is an older women in a black dress with long, black, curly hair, and next to her, Manon, who looks between Eliott and Lucas confused.

“Eliott, you need to be on set now.” The older women says, completely disregarding the atmosphere that now, is ruined in Lucas’s eyes, as the intense heat returns to his face and panic sets in. He needs to get out, for Eliott, and for his own fucking sanity.

Forcing his conscience to come back to him, Lucas springs up with a tight smile and nods furiously at the women.

“Yes, but of course.” He spares a glance at Eliott, who is looking at him slightly taken aback, and quickly stutters out “You’re welcome!” before he books it out of the door. Well, more speed walks, past the old women, past Manon who looks at him a bit bewildered, and b-lining towards the streets, not even returning to the main building because Lucas has finally remembered his name and thinks going back inside would only make him forget again.

He has walked to the sidewalk when he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket, pulling it out when he finally calms down his nerves.

 

**Manon**

Lucas, are you okay?

**Lucas**

totally. 100%

**Lucas**

can i go home early? i forgot i had an assignment to do

**Manon**

Umm, yeah?

**Lucas**

plus, i drank last night

**Lucas**

sorry

**Manon**

I figured

**Manon**

Are you okay, Lucas?

**Lucas**

super! you’re the best boss ever!

 

Lucas falls face first onto his bed when he gets to the coloc and decides that he won’t come out for a while

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol take a shot every time i say « slightly »
> 
> also please tell me if the 2 images don’t show up so i can edit it later, merci 😊

**Author's Note:**

> god, inserting images is a bitch. tell me what you think!


End file.
